


never changing who i am

by Muir_Wolf



Series: trope_bingo [1]
Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Mostly Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“We’re all the only heroes we know how to be,” she says.  Her hand settles lightly against his chest.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	never changing who i am

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an AU during/after the 2x01 premiere.
> 
> Fills the 'rivals-to-lovers' square for trope_bingo.

David walks up and down the hallway. He’s been doing so for the last twenty-three minutes, tension tight in his shoulders and the set of his wrists. Olivia’s kept an eye on him since he arrived, and she finally sets her mug of coffee down on the table and walks out of her office.

“Hi,” she says.

“Don’t _hi_ me,” he says. “We have rules, Olivia Pope. I am the enforcer of those rules, it’s my _duty_ to enforce those rules, and I’m not about to throw those rules out the window based on your say-so and a pretty smile.”

“Duty implies you’ve been entrusted with those rules by other people, and other people can be wrong. I’m not wrong, and I answer only to myself because sometimes rules need to be bent, and I trust myself to do the bending.”

“You don’t answer only to yourself—you answer to _me_ , and I answer to the people. That’s the way this works.” His arms are crossed in front of him, that peculiarly attractive line creasing his forehead as he glares at her. She almost smiles.

“Answer implies a question. Are you asking me something, David?”

“I _should_ ask you what you did,” he says. “I should ask you what the hell you’ve gotten yourself involved in and why you think you’re above the rules.”

“Not above them,” she says. “Because you are your rules, aren’t you? I don’t think I’m above you, I just think you’re too narrow-minded to—”

“You don’t get to be judge and jury!” he shouts.

“What’s your question, David?” she asks, keeping her voice level. “If you are your rules, and you think I should answer to you, what’s your question?”

“I’m not letting this go,” he says. “I’ll burn my career to the ground before letting you walk all over everything I stand for.”

“She didn’t do it,” she says. “Does that matter to you at _all?_ ”

“Then you should’ve proven that in court.”

“And what happens to your white hat when you send innocent people away, Mr. DA? What happens when your rules fail you? What if it was you in that courtroom about to be sentenced to life—would you want me to throw the rulebook out the window for you?”

“We have a court of law, and—”

“What would you want me to do for you, if you were my client? Everything I could, right? Because I do everything I can for my clients.”

“That doesn’t give you a white hat. Serving one person isn’t the same as serving the people.”

“She didn’t do it,” she says. “She doesn’t deserve to go to jail for something she didn’t do.”

“You don’t get to make that call!”

“I’ll make whatever call I think is right. If you were my client—”

“I’d tell you not to break the fucking law! I’d try to keep you from ending up in jail next to me, Olivia!”

“I make whatever call I think is right,” she says. “If you were my client I’d do whatever it took to help you.”

“Even if I was guilty?”

“You wouldn’t be guilty.”

“That’s not how this goes,” he says. “We don’t scratch each other’s backs, we don’t have each other’s backs, we don’t drift along in some magic world where you can break the laws because you want to, with me just supposed to be okay with it. Everyone answers to someone.”

“You haven’t asked me your question yet,” she says. They’ve stepped closer, he realizes. He could reach out and touch her, and dimly he can feel how very much he wants to, but he pushes that want down.

“Your right isn’t my right,” he says instead. “Your white hat isn’t the same as mine.”

“We’re all the only heroes we know how to be,” she says. Her hand settles lightly against his chest.

“Do you?” he asks, swallowing. “Think I’m a hero. Think I wear the white hat.”

“We skirmish for sport,” she says. “I don’t want to go to war with you.”

“I can’t let this go,” he says, rocking back slightly on his heels. “I answer to the people.”

“And who do the people answer to?”

“Everyone answers to someone,” he says again. Her fingertips are a warm pressure through his shirt. “I don’t want to go to war with you, either. I don’t want to go to war with you, Olivia.”

“Good,” she says. “I have a hard time juggling it when my client and I land on opposite sides of the fence.”

“I’m not your client.”

“Of course you are,” she says. “Ask me about my white hat.”

“What about your white hat?”

“What do you want to know?”

His hand snakes up until it lands on top of hers, their fingers entwining on top of his chest.

“Are you still wearing it?” he asks. “Are you still answering to yourself and doing the right thing?”

“Does that matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t matter.”

“You’re looking at my lips.”

“I’m waiting to see what you say.”

“You need to look at my lips to hear me?”

“I need to look at your lips to hear you.”

“I’m wearing my white hat,” she says. “I answer to myself. Now ask me if that’s enough.”

“Why do you want me to ask that?”

“I don’t want you to ask me that. You want to ask me that. You’re still looking at my lips.”

“Is it enough, Olivia?” he asks. His voice has dropped slightly lower. She smiles, the gesture only the smallest bit shaky. He wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking.

“That’s why I have you,” she says. “If it’s not enough, then I have you.”

“Because I’m the rules.”

“Because I trust you, David.”

They stand there for a long moment, their hands still entwined. She can feel his heart beating. Distantly he registers that he’s leaning in.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he says. “I answer to the people. I can’t have your back if I answer to the people.”

She smiles crookedly.

“Everybody answers to someone,” she says, her voice hushed. Her lips are very close to his, but he’s not looking at them anymore—he’s looking at her eyes. Looking at her looking at him.

“But she didn’t do it,” he says.

“She didn’t do it.”

“White hats don’t work this way, Olivia,” he says. “I can’t let you get away with this.”

“Oh David,” she says, her eyes lighting up with her smile. “You’re not going to _let_ me do anything. I saved that girl’s life.”

“That innocent girl.”

“I saved that innocent girl’s life, David. Tell me to take it back.”

“Olivia—”

“I said she’s innocent, now tell me to let her go to jail.”

“That isn’t how white hats work,” he says. His free hand settles lightly on her hip. Her fingers worry the edge of his coat.

“Tell me how white hats work.”

“There are rules,” he says. She tilts her head, bumping her nose gently against his, shifting the angle of her face.

“There are rules,” she says. “There are rules, and there are people.”

“I’m not the bad guy,” he says. “I follow the rules.”

“Somebody’s got to follow the rules,” she says. “You _are_ the rules. But sometimes,” she says, glancing down at their entwined hands still between their bodies, “sometimes you need me, too.”

“Olivia—”

“Sometimes you need me,” she says. Her eyes are dark as she looks up and meets his steady gaze. His free hand lifts off her hip and brushes a strand of hair back from her cheek.

“Sometimes I need you,” he says. “But Olivia. Don’t make me choose. Don’t ever make me choose between you and my rules. Don’t ever push me into that corner.”

“I told you,” she says. “That’s why I have you, David. Sometimes I need you, too.”

“Do you?” he asks. “Have me.”

They’re so close that it only takes the smallest movement to press her lips against his, their hands finally sliding out from between their bodies, his hand dipping to her lower back, pressing her close. She smiles into it, her fingertips catching against the nape of his neck.

They pull apart slowly, unwillingly—their bodies soft curves and unforgiving lines. Her hand slides down his neck, pulling his tie out of his coat.

“Do I have you?” she asks.

“It’s a question,” he says. She smiles and tugs on the end of his tie.

“Ask me again in the morning,” she says, pulling him back to her.


End file.
